Feely Crowley Fic
by Femme Bono
Summary: ***Written by Lauren, uploaded by Yours Truly*** Crowley struggles with his human blood addiction and the vessel's consciousness.


_Authors note: yes timelines don't work, but maybe the Doctor ended up taking them forward in time to when they would be more accepted. That sounds good, but the honest answer is this popped into my head and I didn't give a flying flip about how it would work. The plotbunny attacked instead. -Lauren_

Crowley stared down through eyes that weren't his at a love that wasn't his.

As he gazed down at the black man's bandaged and battered face, he felt deep regret.

He inwardly cursed Sam Winchester. Ever since that attempted "cure", he had been plagued by annoying human feelings. When he first decided on his body, he hadn't cared one bit for the human it belonged to nor the black man the original owner had been so fond of, merely shoving the man's consciousness down and away, taking control for himself. He had gone about his own business, not bothering with trying to keep up with his host's life.

But with that damn cure and those cursed feelings, he had sought out the man once again, figuring out he could just keep an eye on him from afar and that would appease whatever annoying conscience had sprung up. Things hadn't gone according to plan. The feelings were stronger than he expected. With him getting addicted to human blood, everything only got more intense. He still wondered if he hadn't completely snuffed out his body's consciousness. He couldn't tell even now. He'd never experienced this situation before. Were these lingering feelings what remained of his meatsuit's original occupant, still alive inside or just some residual leftovers that still existed in the body's DNA somehow?

Well, what happened instead was that he had ended up greeting the man, playing his host. Something had driven him on. He felt an almost desperate need to talk to the man, and damn, but the man was so happy to see Crowley, or his body rather. He had been constantly worrying and desperately searching for him. Crowley felt some guilt for that, but he also felt an odd happiness at seeing the man's joy. He warned that he'd be busy and have odd hours and whatnot, but the man had only responded with a laugh and easy acceptance. He'd fallen into some perverse kind of routine living almost not a double life, but a triple one, dealing with the Winchesters, dealing with his addiction to human blood while trying to balance ruling Hell (which wasn't going well with the blood addiction; he could only barely admit it to himself), and dealing with this growing addiction to living a semi-normal human life with his body's love.

It was almost their anniversary, and Crowley had been going to surprise the man with some maudlin human kind of gift or trip or something...then THIS happened. Now, he watched him struggle to breathe and cling to life, feeling an odd desperation. He felt ...guilt? Yes, he felt guilt that he had deceived him.

Another part of him was enraged...and a bit confused. He wanted to keep the man's soul with him. But... something stopped him. He frowned, considering what it was: let's see, he knew this man was good and was going to the place that wasn't his domain. Ok. Check. He got that. He knew he could keep his soul anyways. But that was where part of him balked. Something nagged at him. It longed to stay with the man but ...then why didn't ...wait, what? It didn't make sense. Was it because he knew the man didn't really love HIM, his body maybe, the man he pretended to be, but not actually Crowley himself? Ok. Well, maybe that was part of it, but not quite all of it.

His eyes wandered over the man's, no, DAVID'S face, a voice reminded him, because this person was so much more than some random nameless man to him now. When had he become so important to Crowley? WHY had he become so important? He felt a longing and desperation and then with a thrill of fear, Crowley realised HE wasn't feeling those things. Well, not exactly. Well, he sort of was. Ok, that didn't make any sense, but he realised that while he himself was feeling some of those things, some of them weren't ONLY him. He was horrified to realise there was another presence inside the body with him.

This other ...being gave off an odd assortment of emotions: almost a tiny sense of wry amusement, like a "just now realised I'm still here?", a bit of anger towards Crowley for taking over his life, a dejected resignation or depression for what his life had become, all of which were overshadowed by a keen and cutting sense of grief over David.

Having all these feelings roiling inside him made Crowley feel sick, and he fought to keep upright. As if his own weren't enough! Damn Sam Winchester! Damn that human blood! And damn this persistent human and his feelings interfering with his life! He couldn't separate himself from his host, and it infuriated him. It also maybe confused him too. A little. A very small amount. Just a tiny bit...Not that he was admitting anything...because he wasn't!

David suddenly let out a wheezing, rattling gasp, and it suddenly felt like his (not actually his) heart was twisting in his (still not his) chest. He could actually see the man's soul straining to leave his body, with the machines relentlessly working to keep the body alive and the soul restrained. That other presence inside of him was writhing in agony, wordlessly begging for an end to his love's suffering, full of resignation for its own fate, but pleading for this other's.

A shaking hand reached out towards the machine's switch, and Crowley numbly realised that he didn't actually know if he or that other presence was controlling that hand as it grasped the lever and flipped it into the "off" position. The hand dropped to caress the ma..no, DAVID'S face as he gave one last wheezy inhale.

Suddenly both Crowley and the other were shocked as David's one good eye opened, and he seemed to stare at both of them for a second. He mouthed "thank you" before his eye slipped shut, his face relaxed, his body slumped, and he exhaled for the last time.

Crowley had seen souls loads of times before, but this one seemed particularly beautiful and radiant as it slipped out of the now useless shell that had held it. It almost seemed to hesitate, as he stretched out his hand and extended his power to grasp it, and he felt the other being inside him reach for it yearningly.

In a sudden moment of clarity, Crowley realised that the almost curing of his demon self and the human blood (that cursed human blood!) had reawoken not only the human side of himself but the consciousness of the human whose body he had stolen, and that, because he was addicted to those damn feelings, he had been clinging to both human parts unconsciously, unwilling to let either his own feelings or his woken host's awareness become too present nor completely slip away again. No wonder he had been so weak and confused lately! No wonder demons thought he was slipping! That they could usurp him and he wasn't fit to be king!

Crowley was just getting ready to crush the pitiful human's life force and send both his and his lover's souls to Hell just for kicks when...he stopped. He realised he'd let the ridiculous farce of feelings go on for a reason; he didn't WANT to be the total bastard the Winchesters always assumed he was. After all, he hadn't simply killed off the original occupant of his body once he reawoke. No, Crowley had felt BAD about stealing his body and ruining his life. Ok, not consciously bad, but subconsciously guilty? Yes. He'd grown fond of the body, and while he wasn't just going to give it up, he had tried to atone a bit somehow by checking on David. Things had just gotten out of hand from there. He'd enjoyed the feeling of being loved, even if it wasn't really him David was loving. It was just as addicting as all those other damn feelings. His addiction and the other consciousness in his head had been stronger than he thought. Crowley also realised that he'd grown, ugh, fond of the companionship of the other, even if he hadn't been aware of the other's presence in his mind until now.

All these epiphanies were very enlightening and everything, but it was just a bit much to be thinking about sober with another presence very much aware and alert inside him and a soul just hanging around like it was waiting for a bus. Looking at the soul he held trapped and feeling the desperation of the other he kept imprisoned inside himself, he felt sick as he came to the realisation that he knew what he should do; what was the right thing to do.

If he really did want to be better, then the thing he had learned from spending time as a sort of would-be-third-but-really-more-of-a-self-inserted-second-wheel in a relationship (yes, he knew it didn't bloody make any sense!) and having these damn feelings was that he had to give them both up. Obviously David was already going to go where ever, but he could keep the other one...no. No, he couldn't. Damn those feelings. Damn damn damn. He'd just gotten so used to a second presence in his head; no, he hadn't been aware of it until now, but that doesn't mean he wasn't used to it. The body he was in breathed, and he didn't consciously think about it all the time, but he was used to the feel of it doing its thing. But now Crowley could feel how alert and aware his host's...no, CANTON'S spirit felt due to the proximity of David's soul and the longing and yearning Canton felt to be with David, and Crowley knew what the "right" thing to do was.

Regretfully, Crowley released the tight grip he had unconsciously been using to keep Canton's consciousness with him, as well as letting go of the hold restraining David's soul. He felt Canton's presence fade, a part of his mind going dark and silent. Before it completely left, Crowley thought he felt a flash of ...gratitude? And...appreciation? Surely it couldn't be lo...no. No, that was ridiculous. It must have been some misguided appreciation from a moronic emotional human overwrought with feelings. But, as Crowley watched a bright soul dance up to join another waiting one, he almost fancied that they circled playfully before pausing as if looking at him in gratitude before rushing together to merge and float up into the sky.

Crowley snorted. _Bah, feelings_. He turned what was now truly his (and his alone) back to the window and with his mind feeling far too empty, he idly wondered if those damned feelings were going to continue to persist now. With wry amusement, he realised he didn't know if he was worried they would or wouldn't.


End file.
